One True Thing
by jandjsalmon
Summary: Best friends Tracey Davis and Greg Goyle sneak out of the castle one night and come home with something that means a lot more than what it seems. One of many jandjsalmon/airmidm colabs written in 2007/2008.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** One True Thing (1/2)  
**Authors:** jandjsalmon and airmidm  
**Summary:** Best friends Tracey Davis and Greg Goyle sneak out of the castle one night and come home with something that means a lot more than what it seems.  
**Pairing/Fandom:** Tracey Davis/Greg Goyle  
**Rating/Warnings/Notes:** M - for bad language (because Greg says the F-bomb a lot).

One True Thing - Chapter One

Greg sighed heavily, levelling his best friend with 'the look'. He knew damn well that it wouldn't work, not on her. Tracey Davis had been his constant companion since the first day at primary school when he'd stopped Blaise Zabini from teasing her and pulling her hair. He'd scared the other boy off, wiped the streak of mud from her cheek, and promised to not let anyone bother her again. That, as they said, was that. They'd been through dancing, deportment, eloquence (which he'd have failed without her help), and every other manner of lessons together from that point on. Their mums had seen how much it meant to both children that they be together and had done their level best to make it happen. "You _are not_ sneaking out of Hogwarts with me."

"Oh, honestly, Greg. I'll be fine. If the bloody Gryffs can do it all the time without getting caught you know _I_ can. I'd take _you_ and you know it. I'd just make sure you didn't spill it to Vinnie. You _know_ how he gets with running back to Draco about everything. If Draco comes then Blaise has to, and then he'll pretend to be all 'over protective boyfriend' and we won't have any fun at all." Blaise had long moved from hair tugging because he was an idiot to pulling because he was expected to get a girlfriend and hair pulling was as good a way to flirt as any. They'd only just started dating the year before despite both of them knowing where his real intentions lay.

Greg grinned, holding out his hand. "I want it known that I tried to stop you, Poppet." He snickered. "Last chance to back out."

He knew she wouldn't. She would also help him sneak past his girlfriend. He liked Daphne, but she wasn't as much fun as Trace was. Hell, she wasn't Tracey. They silently moved through the common room with a practiced ease. How many times had they done this, for one reason or another? He'd lost count. The first couple of years they'd escaped the common room to study, or rather for her to tutor him without having to answer their housemates' questions. Last year had been the first foray into sneaking completely off the grounds of Hogwarts.

Silently, thanks to Silencing Charms, they navigated the dungeons with ease. They didn't need to talk, he led them along and he could have done it blindly at this point. Once they'd taken one of the secret passages and had cleared the grounds, he turned to Tracey and finally spoke out loud. "Where to, Poppet?"

"Hey, this was your outing. I just tagged along. Where were you going before I invited myself out? No, no, let me guess. Daphne probably tried again to use the big bad 'L' word this afternoon, didn't she? Then it's to the Hogshead! A drink sounds brilliant right now anyway. I'm sure _you_ need it. I'd need it - even if Daphs _didn't_ say she loved me. Her loving _you_ is traumatizing enough." She shuddered over dramatically and led him to the pub. It wasn't a secret that she didn't care for her best mate's girlfriend, but she chalked that up the fact that Daphne had a very irrational jealousy for her relationship with Greg and threw a hissy fit about it often. It seemed that _some_ girlfriends didn't care for you when you cuddled up to their property. It's not like Tracey would have cared if Blaise cuddled up with his best mate... in fact, it was a regular occurrence in the Slytherin boys' dorms. If everyone else at school knew he and Draco were really that close she'd be rich, well, richer than she already was. The tickets to watch them would sell out in a heartbeat.

Greg shuddered a bit remembering Daphs hanging onto him that afternoon. It was like he was going to disappear if she didn't. Being away from her, he could feel some of the stress abate. Things were always better when it was just Trace and him. "Yes, yes she did. And it's not like I don't like her. I _like_ her well enough, I just don't want to hear _that_word come out of her mouth, you know? So, I was planning on drowning myself in firewhisky." He eyed her. "You're always welcome to come with me and you know it. I was only teasing before."

Throwing him a cheeky grin she laughed out loud. "You didn't want to hear her confess her undying love for you? Does ickle-Greg not want to hear that his bird _adores_ him? Awwww... and here I was hoping that I'd get to help pick out wedding colours... you think she'd let me come? I'd have to promise not to upstage her or take any of your attention from her... but maybe if I wore a paper bag over my head and plain old school robes or something she'd let me sit way at the back. You think?" She was making light for his sake, but the stinging hex thrown at her the other day from the bloody witch hadn't been a joke. Thankfully, Greg didn't know about it... or what Tracey had done to the red-head in retaliation, but it was proof in that she did indeed know how barmy Daphs could be first hand. How on earth her best friend was happy with a witch like her was beyond Tracey, but he'd stayed with her for two years so there had to be something. Grimacing slightly she tried not to think of what that 'something' was and why he wasn't happy with just being with _her_ like she was being with just _him._

Greg shrugged. Being with Daphs was easy. It was expected. Hell, his mum didn't like it but his father sure did. His mum and Tracey's mum were nearly as close as he and Trace were. Sometimes he wondered if their mums were disappointed in them for never being more than just friends. Sometimes he wondered if _he_ was disappointed. No, he admitted, it was more than 'sometimes'. He knew he had to break it off with Daphne though. Her continued displeasure over his friendship with Trace was obnoxious and infuriating. If Daphs couldn't deal with reality then she had to go. But, how to do it without facing his father's wrath? That was the million galleon question. "No, I don't. And I think I just vomited a bit at the thought of marrying her. I _like_ Daphs, Poppet, I just don't _love_ her. How do I explain that to my father? Only the fact that the Ministry finally abolished the marriage contracts has kept him from signing one and you know it. Any ideas?"

She smirked and pretended to ponder it for a moment. It wasn't like he hadn't said these words a million times before, but he'd never done anything about it so as far as Tracey knew it was all grumbling that would precede a very real marriage between her best mate and the bitch he called a girlfriend. "Nope. You're pretty much fucked," She mock grimaced at her own words, "Oh wait, sorry mate, I know she probably isn't that type of girl. I'll be sure not to laugh from the back row of the church then, aye?"

Groaning at her, he opened the Hogshead's door and ushered her inside. "That wasn't funny, Trace. Just for that I'm not sharing my firewhisky with you."

He pulled out a chair at their 'usual' table, pouting heavily. "Should I remind you that I'll be the one laughing his arse off when you march up the aisle to marry Blaise then? Isn't that the plan? Draco going to move in with you then?"

She rolled her eyes. What she had with Blaise wasn't anything like what he had with Daphs and he knew it. Her parents didn't even know she was dating him. Which was just as well, since he wasn't exactly the type to want to sire heirs and all. He was merely someone to pass the time with when Daphne was being a bitch and not letting her have her best friend. An excuse to prove that she did indeed have eyes for other boys, that there was more to Tracey Davis than just Greg Goyle. Tracey had only consented to being his girlfriend after the first time Daphne charmed her to her bed so as not to spend the Hogsmeade weekend with the two of them anyway.

"Like I need you to share your firewhisky," she coldly added as she sat down roughly in the chair he'd offered her. She hated being reminded about Blaise. It wasn't as if it wasn't clear who he really fancied anyway. It seemed everyone but Daphne knew about Blaise and Draco in their tight circle of friends, and that was probably just because the boys had all but banned her from their dorm. "If you'll recall, I'm the one who can drink _you_ under the table and still be able to tell my mum you're just napping down there on the floor with her being none-the-wiser. I'll just have my own. Someone has to be a little drunk to carry your sorry arse back to the castle. Super human strength and all that."

He sneered, masking his concern over her mood. He knew he'd get it out of her once he got a bit of firewhisky in her. She always spilled more than she should when she was tipsy, said and did what she really wanted to do without the limitations she put on herself in her normal life. "You _wish_, Poppet. It's me that drinks you under the table. But don't you worry," he teased, hoping to at least get a smile for his efforts, "I'll get you back to the castle and tuck you into my bed with a hangover potion, just like I always do."

"Right. Nice there, Greg." She rolled her eyes before smirking and giving the barkeep a little nod. The two of them had been there enough that he knew exactly what to bring them. It wasn't long before there were several empty bottles of Old Ogden's sitting in front of them.

Greg reached out, missing what had to be his sixth...seventh? Hell he couldn't remember how many bottles they'd each had. He cocked his head to the side and closed one eye, finally grasping the bottle. He tried and failed to glare at Tracey's snickers. "What? You're no better off than I am, Poppet," he said teasingly, daring her to try and contradict him.

"Oh, I'm fine, Greggie boy. Finer than you'll be when you marry the Wicked Witch of the West next year and leave me all alone." Even inebriated, Tracey knew he'd get the reference. When they were nine Tracey had managed to steal one of her aunt's Muggle books and read the entire thing out loud to him in a weekend. For weeks afterwards they had pretended to drop houses on one another - in the form of pile driving the other into the ground. They did it until her sixteen-year-old brother levitated them to opposing corners of the room, planning on keeping them apart all afternoon. It had been the best bit of under-aged magic ever seen in either the Goyle or the Davis house in centuries when Tracey conjured a bucket of water to pour over Declan. What had been really special was when the water started melting his shoes, she'd always sworn it wasn't her but very few people believed her.

Greg snickered and then laughed until he cried. He remembered clearly the _incident_ as it was known in their houses. He couldn't help but wonder if Declan ever figured out who melted his shoes since it had looked like Tracey's bucket of water had been responsible. He'd not been happy that the game he and Trace had been playing was interrupted. Once he'd calmed, he shook his head. "Wonder if she'd melt? Want to try it?"

Taking another swig, Tracey grimaced. "I'm afraid the only thing to do with Daphs is to drop the house on her head. She does have some lovely shoes, I'd gladly steal some of those, though she also has one mad stinging hex that I'm not convinced wouldn't hurt from beyond the grave." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she remembered he didn't know about that. She nudged him hard and pointed toward the door, hoping that a sudden change in scenery and topic would make him forget he ever heard it. "Let's go, yeah? If I drink any more I won't be able to cart you back to the dungeons. Besides, Aberforth is looking at us strangely."

Using the table, Greg pushed himself up, wavering just a bit. When he was steady, he held his hand out for Tracey to take. "We're going to have a talk about Daphne and how exactly you know about her hexes, but I don't think now's the time, Poppet. We're too drunk and I think I want to remember that conversation. Besides, all I can think about now is where to find a house. It would have to be a little house, Trace. I don't think even we could manage to levitate a big one."

She laughed, leaning into him as they stumbled out the door. Greg wrapped his arm about her waist and snickered. "Though, I can't say that I've really looked at her shoes."

"Oh, they're brilliant. She has hundreds of pairs. Her only redeeming quality really." Tracey looked up at him completely serious, "Pretty much the only reason I get so cranky that she stopped letting me borrow her clothes in fourth year. Stupid cow! Though, to be truthful, she has such an enormous arse that they'd never..." Tracey saw her friend smirking at her and sighed. Talking badly about his bird was not the way to endear yourself to your best mate. "Sorry, Greg, I'll just keep it to myself. Please tell me you nicked one of the bottles back there? A drink would be bril right about now."

"No, malign away," he encouraged her, pulling a bottle of firewhisky out of his cloak pocket. "You know it's all about father's expectations. She does have an enormous arse. I'd love to find a way out of marrying her. You don't want to get married, do you?"

Tracey's mouth opened but she didn't say anything as he opened the bottle, took a swig and handed it to her. The rest of the night was a blur and when the two of them next opened their eyes at Vincent's snoring they both reached for their wands on the bedside table at the same time to close the curtains. It was too fucking bright to deal with a hangover of this proportion. He groaned loudly, barely stopping before his and Trace's heads slammed together. He wrapped one arm about her waist, grabbing his wand and closing the curtains with the other. He pulled her gently back down next to him, tugging her back against his chest while he pulled the blankets up. "Sleep, Trace, just sleep."

So she did. At least until the curtains were flipped back a few hours later and a screeching witch woke them up again. "I _knew_ it! I knew you'd be here. I told you to stay out of his bed, you little harpy!" Daphne's voice was grating at the best of times but Tracey actually groaned hearing it that early in the morning.

"Sorry, sorry, Daphs dear," she muttered sarcastically under her breath as she made to move out of the bed.

Greg held her tight, pulling her against his bare chest and glaring at his girlfriend. He scanned the bed sheets for his wand. "You can turn around and walk away, Daphne. You'll also not be maligning Tracey...to _anyone_. Am I clear?"

He leaned over, still keeping a good hold on Tracey and picked up the first wand he found buried in the duvet. _It's Trace's but it'll work._ Emphasizing his point, he pointed the wand at Daphne. "I really don't like hexing girls since my mum did teach me better than that. I will make a special allowance for you though. Apologize and don't _ever_ think you can tell my best mate what to do. Understood?"

Snickering was heard across the room and Greg smirked when Draco and Blaise rolled out of bed and joined the merry little group.

"I'll give you ten galleons if you silence her," Draco said sleepily.

"Make it twenty," Blaise retorted, running a hand through his messy hair. "We were happily sleeping off our hangovers until she started imitating a banshee."

Tracey sighed. She already knew what would happen the moment she stepped back in her dorm anyway, so she reluctantly moved out of the bed before Daphne could even pretend to mutter an apology, grabbed her wand from her friend's outstretched hand, gave the other girl a death glare before walking out of the room. Best prepare to retaliate when the other girl came to find her.

Greg pushed upright, the sheets falling to his waist as he shoved a hand in his hair to push it off of his face. Draco laughed, Blaise snickered, and Daphne made some sort of indignant sound that reminded Greg why exactly he and Trace had started calling her the Wicked Witch. _Where's a falling house when you need one?_ "Do shut up, Daphne. We're all hung-over." He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

Daphne continued to mutter and Greg finally caught what she was muttering about. "Hell no you won't, Daphne. If I ever find out you've ever hexed, charmed, spelled, jinxed, or otherwise attempted to harm her then you will pay in the most painful way possible."

She sent him the dirtiest look imaginable before storming out of the room. Clearly she wasn't happy, but Greg wasn't that concerned. He was going to find out if any of those muttered threats had actually come to pass though, and if Tracey wouldn't tell him he'd certainly find out another way.

"Umm, Greg?"

Growling, literally, Greg cracked open his eyes at Blaise's question and amused tone. "What?"

Draco was still laughing, but managed to calm himself, leaning on Blaise. "You've Tracey's name on your arm, mate."

Greg just gaped, looking down at his sore arm. His brows rose at the sight of Tracey's name clearly tattooed on the underside of his left arm. It was even in Latin with little scrolly things around it. "I don't remember that. Bloody hell, what did we do last night?"

Tracey was fuming. She hated that little bint. It was bad enough that she was forced to spend time with the horrid girl in order to be with Greg, but now she was waking the whole House up with her hollering. Just because _she_ was too fucking perfect to be out drinking and carrying on with the boys. Isn't that was her mother was telling her all the time, that boys never would look at her if she continued to behave just like them? Slamming the girl's dorm room door behind her, Tracey was greeted with a smirking Pansy Parkinson leaning casually against her own desk.

"Sleep well?" she asked drolly as she put Greg's quill that Tracey had stolen to charm it to spell properly down on the desk beside her. She threw her friend a bottle of hangover potion that Tracey caught with one hand. If there hadn't have been that pesky 'No girls on the House Team' thing going on, everyone said she would have made a brilliant keeper.

Tracey eyed the other witch carefully. "Did you know she was coming up there, Pans? A little warning would have been nice, you know." Pansy had played interference before and knew the drill. But the last few months she hadn't stalled Daphne or called out ahead of her to warn them and Tracey had no idea why the big change. It wasn't like Daphs was the most understanding that the boys let Tracey sleep in their dorm but not her, or that Tracey was more often than not sitting with her head on Greg's lap reading to him when she stormed into the dormitory.

Pansy just smiled. She wasn't about to have all her hard work go to waste, especially not since it looked like Tracey and Greg were _finally_ waking up about each other. She saw the veiled looks on Greg's face and the light blushes Tracey couldn't quite hide when she was in the common room and Greg would touch her here or there.

Tracey raised her eyebrow suspiciously. Pansy knew more than she was saying, or wasn't saying, as the case may be - that much was clear, but she had very little time or inclination to try to figure out what was going on behind her brown eyes. "Whatever, Pans. Can you try to keep her out of here until I-" Tracey yawned mid sentence and raised her arm above her head in a stretch.

Pansy gaped at her. "What is that?" she asked, practically clawing at the other girl. She was looking at Tracey like she'd done something dreadful and Tracey had no idea what she was talking about. "Your arm. What did you do?"

Tracey looked down at the underside of her right arm. There, plain as day was Greg's name. Embossed in green ink and written in Latin. "What on earth? Bloody hell, she's going to murder me!" she muttered. Strange remembrances of the night before flashed in her memory. Talk of a bet. Challenges. Oh, Sweet Salazar, they'd got drunken body art.

There was a clamour of screeches coming from the door, but Tracey didn't head to bed. She didn't bother to look at the irate witch who'd just joined them. Instead she grabbed the second vial of hangover potion offered to her by Pansy, pushed passed Daphne and turned around the corner back to the boy's dorm. Daphne didn't even have enough time to pull her wand before Pansy flicked her own and had the daft cow silenced and tied to the bed. Pansy wasn't about to let her stop this confrontation. It might be just what the two friends needed to see what it was that made Daphne so upset. What everyone else already saw.

Greg, ignoring Vince's snoring and Draco and Blaise's fits of mirth, just stared at the magical tattoo on his arm. His brow furrowed as he mentally reviewed everything he could remember about magical tattoos. He knew there were ones like Vince had which were nothing more than a magically produced picture. Though, this one actually moved which meant there could be some inherent magic in it as well, like Draco and Blaise's. He looked up, idly tracing the tattoo. "Blaise, do you remember any information from when you two researched your tattoos?"

Blaise was reclined on his bed with Draco curled up, half-asleep with his head on Blaise's thigh, running a hand through Draco's hair. He cocked his head to the side and said, "If I remember correctly, if it moves there is some sort of magic worked in. The question is- what is it?"

Draco snickered. "That was immensely helpful, love."

Greg's head shot up at the sound of the door flying open and slamming into the wall. _Oh shite!_ He didn't like the look on Trace's face, not at all.

"Have you seen this?" she asked in a rush before flopping down on the bed and pulling his pillow out from under him for herself. "Look at this! This is all your fault. Handle your liquor my pale white arse. _You_ were supposed to be the one in charge last night, Greg. Do you have any idea what she's going to do to me when she sees this?" She flashed him her right arm and sent him the deathliest of glares... well, it wasn't really deathly. It was hardly a glare, but she was mortified and he knew it.

Greg's eyes flicked from his very embarrassed best friend to the two boys who were laid out side by side on their stomachs watching him and Tracey intently all the while looking utterly amused. He shot them a glare before turning back to Trace. He reached out, taking her hand in both of his. "We were _both_ drunk, Poppet. I'm- I'm _never_ in charge when it comes to you, besides, I've one too, love." He turned his arm a bit so she could see the matching tattoo on his arm before his eyes darkened. "And what do you mean, 'what she's going to do?' What are you talking about? Daphne?" _I'm going to kill her! Why didn't Trace ever say?_

Draco laughed aloud, interrupting his friend. "You two do realize what this means right?"

Tracey rolled her eyes at him, hoping to divert Greg's attention from her slip about Daphne. "No, Draco, what does it mean? That Greg's parents are going to kill us? I hadn't figured. It's not like his is on an available arm or anything. I'm pretty sure his Da had other plans for it. My name is taking up valuable property that belongs to the Dark Lord, don't you know?"

Blaise elbowed Draco, effectively shutting him up. "It means that there is some sort of magical bond between you two now. You have to figure out what sort of bond though."

Draco sat up, pouting and rubbing his ribs, his tattoo - a dragon- peeking over his shoulder. He and Blaise knew all too well what sorts of bonds could be included in a tattoo. He glanced at Blaise's matching dragon (that was watching him) and sighed. "Do you two remember _anything_ you were asked by the tattoo artist?"

Greg thought about it for a few minutes, struggling through the haze of his hangover and fuzzy memories. "I remember saying that Trace was my best friend and that I didn't want to marry the Wicked Witch."

"Oh, that's rich. We're lucky we don't have a tattoo of silver shoes or a yellow brick road etched on us instead," Tracey moaned into his pillow. "I tried charming mine off and it won't work. Is there something special about barmy bonds between best mates? Will it be any problem for someone with actual skill getting it off, you think?"

Neither of the other boys caught the shoe reference and looked at them both strangely. Blaise cleared he throat and sat down next to her on Greg's bed. "Well, that may be the problem, love. Best mates?"

Greg glared, hard. "Yes, you half wit, best mates. Where the ruddy hell have you been since we were six? I know Draco is distracting, but I didn't think he was _that_ distracting."

Tracey tried to control the snicker, but she couldn't and peeked an eye over at Draco before letting it erupt all over her. It was certainly not the time to laugh, but things couldn't be worse. Greg's father was likely to kill him that there was a mark there on his left arm that wasn't exactly 'Dark' and the questions the boys were asking were coming strangely close to an idea at the back of her head that she refused to think about. Then she was struck with an idea. Maybe it wouldn't matter so much if was the name of the bird he was supposed to marry on his arm. It's not like it really mattered whether he liked her or not.

"You think they could change it to Daphne?" she wondered aloud. The boys just stared at her. "Well, then Greg's father might not mind so much that he can't be a Death Eater now." It sounded like perfectly sound reasoning to her. "You could just tell him that you are most loyal to your future wife."

None of them said anything but Blaise gave Draco a knowing look.

"What?" she asked, a little uncomfortable at the way things got suddenly silent. "_We're_ only best mates. Maybe Mr. Goyle would feel better about it if it said Daphs. Then I could use _mine_ to torment _her_ for the next fifty years. I'm actually seeing a positive to this."

Draco huffed and pouted a bit more, eyeing Blaise. "Now why the ruddy hell didn't _we_ think about that? I don't want to be a bloody Death Eater either. Think anyone would believe us if we got drunk and did the same?"

Greg coughed trying to cover his snicker, not only at Tracey's suggestion about changing the name on his arm (which there was no way in hell that he'd consider doing) but also Draco's questions. "Well, Draco, you two didn't think of it because you don't have our," he said in a mock pompous tone, pointing to himself and Tracey, "exceptional drunken logic. Besides she said future _wife_, not bloke who shares your dorm that you can't tell people you're shagging."

Speaking of 'drunken' he groaned, laying down next to Tracey and laying his cheek on her shoulder. "Pans didn't happen to give you a second hangover potion did she, dear one? I really, really need one."

"Nice to know why you keep me around, love." Tracey muttered under her breath as she handed him the extra vial that Pansy had been sure to give her as she ran a hand through his hair. It wasn't like this wasn't a normal every-day run-of-the-mill recovery that they had dealt with over and over again the last two years, or anything.

"Um," Blaise said hesitantly, eyeing his friends, "Were you two your normally 'attached at the hip' selves when you got the tattoos?"

Greg sat up and finished off the potion, tucking the blankets around Tracey, before he answered Blaise, even knowing how irritated he sounded. He loathed it when _anyone_ questioned he and Trace's friendship. "How else would we be? You sure you didn't hit your head or did you drink enough firewhisky to muck up your memory?"

"Why does that matter, B? Does it mean something?" Tracey asked him with a yawn, patting the side of the bed for Greg to come back. She was arranging her wand on Greg's side table in such a way to have quick access for when Daphne came storming in again. Hopefully, they'd have the chance to get a few hours sleep before that though.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Yes, it most definitely does mean something. If your oaf of a best mate would have let me finish I would have explained that."

"Oh, enough," Draco interjected, stomping across the room and retrieving two hangover potions from his and Blaise's stock. He downed one quickly and tossed the second at Blaise's head. "I'm the one who gets to be insolent and childish. Take that, love, or keep your mouth shut before Greg hexes your arse. I happen to like your arse how it is and am none too happy about the prospect of him damaging it."

Chuckling, Blaise caught the vial and popped the cork, quickly drinking it. Once the potion started to work, he sighed. "We're all irritable wankers hung-over, aren't we?"

Tracey nodded while Greg ignored him, laying back down and curling up next to his friend. He didn't want to worry over anything; he just wanted his hangover completely gone.

"Can we talk about this later?" she asked. She was almost afraid of what was going through Blaise's mind and needed more time to digest and bottle up feelings before he said it out loud. She pulled Greg's arms around her tighter and tried to force herself not to notice how he didn't actually smell like a brewery despite being practically pickled... he smelled like cedar and aftershave and home.

Blaise could tell what she was trying to do so he let it go. He had wondered often whether she even knew that she knew. Greg, well, he appeared stuck in the 'best mates' thing, but Blaise had made a habit of watching Tracey. There were times when he just knew that she knew there was something there. When for a split second the grimace she held when Daphne's voice interrupted them was more than just friendly annoyance. When Tracey physically winced when accidentally coming upon them kissing. She thought she hid it well, and maybe she was even hiding it from herself, but it was clear as day - at least to Blaise.

"More sleep," Draco said, taking Blaise's hand and pulling him towards their bed. "Knowing Pans, Daphs is _tied up_ for now. We'll revisit this conversation in a couple of hours."

"Sounds brilliant," Greg muttered, wondering the strange look Blaise was giving them meant that the thing he'd been keeping in wasn't quite as much of as secret as he'd hoped. He wondered how long Blaise had known. _Fuck all! He can't know how I really feel about her, am I that obvious?_ "We'll deal with magical bonds, tattoos, and the Wicked Witch later."

"Yes, and you _are_ explaining that later," Blaise replied irritably.

"Oh, will you all go to sleep already? I want to know about the 'dropping houses on people thing' they're always muttering about too, but I want to hear about it later," Draco said groggily. "That and how the ruddy hell they managed to melt Declan's shoes to the floor all those years ago."

"If you'd just shut it-"

"Boys!" Tracey hollered. "Everyone just shut it. You'll wake Vinnie and I'd like to sleep before the Wicked Witch brings her flying monkeys round to wake us up, all right?"

Greg snickered into her shoulder. "Don't say that too loud, Poppet, I wouldn't put it past her and water doesn't melt flying monkeys."

Pansy watched from the slightly opened door, with a great deal of amusement, as the four of them drifted off to sleep. "Idiots, the lot of you."

She slipped off her shoes and tiptoed across the room. She knew that the time had come to use the knowledge she'd been keeping to herself. All she had to do was find the ruddy book that Tracey and Greg always quoted. It hadn't been in Tracey's things so it had to be here. Likely to keep 'Daphne-the-bint' from finding it. Flipping open the small trunk that Tracey kept in here, she searched until she came across a copy of 'The Wizard of Oz'. She'd seen Greg give it to Tracey last Yule but hadn't dared their combined wrath in order to get her hands on it until now. Grinning wickedly, she curled up in the chair by the fire and started reading. All she really needed was a description of the flying monkeys. Daphne's reaction to her new 'minions' would be priceless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** One True Thing (2/2)  
**Authors:** jandjsalmon and airmidm  
**Summary:** Best friends Tracey Davis and Greg Goyle sneak out of the castle one night and come home with something that means a lot more than what it seems.  
**Pairing/Fandom:** Tracey Davis/Greg Goyle  
**Rating/Warnings/Notes:** M - for bad language (because Greg says the F-bomb a lot).

**One True Thing - Chapter Two  
**

Pansy was nearly cackling, having let Daphne loose hours before with numerous threats if she dared bother the group sleeping in the boy's dorm room. She'd needed total privacy to plot out the perfect way to go about this flying minion monkeys plan. With books spread out all over her bed, she took careful notes. There had to be some way to keep Snape's wrath from raining down on all of them. It looked easy enough to transfigure and then charm an object into an animal. It was the 'winged' part that was going to give her the most trouble. Unless...she pulled out the copy she'd made of a picture in the book. In short order there were five stuffed winged monkeys neatly lined up on her bedside table. "Perfect."

Tracey tried the handle on the dorm room and it was locked. _Strange._ She knocked. "Pans? You in there? Can I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, she flicked her wand. "Alohomora," she said quickly before opening up the door and quickly closing it behind her. The other witch looked like she'd rapidly hid something away. _Curious._

"Hey there, Trace. What's going on?" Pansy obviously wanted to shift the focus from whatever she was doing. "You're not still in with the boy's then?"

Tracey looked at her curiously. "Obviously not. I couldn't find the pajamas I left in the boys' dorm. Daphs no doubt found them and ripped them to shreds again. Greg's have massively long trousers bottoms, I trip over them every time, and I figured she really _would_ curse me if I walked around only in his top, so I've come to find one of his old pairs that I nicked a few years ago." She eyed the girl carefully, "What are you up to then?"

Pansy relied on her composure to be up to snuff, smirking. "Never mind what I'm up to. What are _you_ up to? Have you figured out what to do about that tattoo yet or are you just going to sleep the day away?" _Sleep the day away. Please, please, please. I need time to put my plans in motion._ She glanced over at the hastily closed wardrobe, hoping that Tracey was too distracted to see the blue wing that had been shut in the door. There was no way she'd let all those hours of reading go to waste. Besides, Pansy happened to agree wholeheartedly with the Wicked Witch moniker for Daphne. If the flying monkeys weren't so damn funny, she'd have tried the water instead. Still might, in fact, just for kicks.

"I don't know whether we'll be sleeping or not, but I'm planning on going back over. Don't I always?" Tracey grinned at her. "You're coming, right? I don't think the boys have plans and I'm not going down for dinner. Blaise said he had some books on tattoos, so Greg and I are going to look into that. You'd be welcome to join us. I'm sure I can convince Greg to bring us something back from the Great Hall."

Pansy snickered though it was a bit disappointing that her plan would have to wait until tomorrow. She enjoyed watching Tracey twist Greg around her little finger without even realizing what she was doing. It was amusing that neither of them seemed to see what was blatantly obvious to the rest of the house. No wonder Daphne was so barmy all the time - her boyfriend was basically cheating on her - always had been, even without knowing it consciously. "Just let me change into something comfortable."

Tracey nodded, grabbed her favourite pair of Greg's old jammies and walked toward the bathroom off their room. "I'll give you a sec then. I have to put my hair up and brush my teeth anyway. Apparently the massive curls are freaking out Blaise tonight. He actually called me Granger, the bastard. Why I stay with him, I never know. Thankfully, Greg shot him a stinging hex, but still." She grinned to herself, thinking of how high her 'boyfriend' had jumped. It hadn't mattered that he was only teasing - Greg always defended her. Tracey twisted her hair into a knot and stuck her wand through it to hold it and walked into the bathroom leaving Pansy alone for a second.

Pansy jumped up, yanked open the wardrobe door, and shoved the stuffed monkeys behind her stack of jumpers before grabbing a set of grey silk pajamas she'd swiped from Draco and Blaise- it wasn't as if they actually _wore_ them or anything. She changed quickly and plaited her hair, sitting cross legged on her bed. "Hurry up, Trace. I want to claim Nott's bed for my own. You know that prat, he'd stick around and take up the whole bed with his books just to spite me."

"Coming, coming," Tracey said through a garbled toothpaste-filled mouth. After sleeping all afternoon with cotton mouth it felt good to finally have fresh breath. Not that she ever got close enough to anyone but Greg to gross them out with day old brewery breath, but still - it was important. She rinsed and wiped her mouth before stepping out and following her friend toward the boy's dorms. Daphne sat glaring at her from the big chair near the fireplace and Tracey couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the boys would likely lock their dorm as soon as Theo was in bed if he wasn't there already.

"You know, Trace, this set is looking a bit thin," Pansy said in a low yet carrying tone, fingering the sleeve of Tracey's oversized top. Her eye darted over to the fuming redhead. She grinned nastily. "You'll need to snag another set from Greg."

Tracey rolled her eyes and tried to push her friend down the corridor towards the boy's room. Keeping her voice low she couldn't help but poke Pansy. "Nice, Pans. Tomorrow I'll wake up to all my hair being cut off or something. I wouldn't put it past her to do it, you know how she gets. Why she insists on being a bitch is beyond me, I've never_actually_ done anything to her that wasn't in retaliation for curses and hexes thrown my way first. Thanks for not telling Greg about those, by the way. He'd blow up if he knew, and as much as he likes to complain about her, and as much as I like to help with that complaining, I don't really want him to ruin what he can have with the bint over me, you know?"

Pansy snorted. _Does she really not see?_ Shaking her head, she whispered, "Not with the spells I put on our rooms this morning, she won't. Then again," she said musingly, "I spelled her clothes to change in all sorts of _interesting_ ways if she retaliates against either of us at all, so maybe her throwing a hex this way is for the best."

The look on Pansy's face was enough to have half the inhabitants of the common room shifting nervously, their eyes darting towards all the available exits. It amused Tracey. Pansy's wrath was notorious and for _very_ good reason. She swore she saw galleons exchanged. Betting was more than a pastime in Slytherin. Giggling, she wondered which idiots were betting on Daphs. Hadn't they learned yet?

Thankfully, Millie said something and caught Daphne's attention - whether it was on purpose or completely innocently was not apparent but Tracey was grateful anyway. The two girls walked round the corner into their friend's room and as soon as the boys saw them they grew silent. It was quite clear that their conversation was not meant to heard by the girls.

Tracey took up her normal seat on Greg's bed. "So, you were saying?" she asked as she crossed her legs and looked at her best mate expectantly with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk.

Wincing, Greg tugged Tracey into his lap and leaned back against the headboard. He nodded toward Draco and Blaise's bed, which had books spread out all over it, leaving just enough space for Draco and Blaise to sit cross legged on the pillows. _What is she going to think?_ "Well..."

"You'd best just spill it," Draco advised, shaking his head. "There's no getting around it and it's the two of you that will have to deal with the repercussions."

"What in Salazar's name are you lot going on about?" Pansy asked, dropping onto Theo's bed. She elbowed Theo playfully and stretched out across the bed, snickering as he hastily moved his books. She'd long felt that Theo needed to remove his nose from his books and pay attention to what was going on around him, especially at times like these. Then again, the last time she'd suggested it, Theo proved just why he'd been sorted Slytherin and hexed her. It had taken two days to change her knickers back to normal. Today she was just glad he shoved over and gave her room.

Tracey, on the other hand, was actually feeling nervous. Greg hardly ever kept anything from her... well, that she knew of anyway, and his hesitance spoke volumes. She twisted in his arms and spoke quietly. The rest of the room didn't need to hear everything. "What's really going on, Greg? What do the books say about these things on our arms? Please tell me they'll come right off. We're not destined to live our lives searching for dates that are only named Greg or Tracey, right?" It was meant to be funny, but there was a hidden truth in what she said. Tracey didn't think she could date a different Greg even if she wanted to, but she was just throwing that idea out there. The room was too solemn for her liking.

He tightened his hold, trying to reassure her in any way he could. "They're here to say," he whispered back, kissing her brow and placing an errant hair behind her ear. "We'll not need to search for _different_ Traceys and Gregs either."

"No whispering," Pansy exclaimed. "Loud enough for the rest of us, if you please."

"Blaise? Explain please," Greg requested, raising an eyebrow at his friend. He couldn't help but feel a bit cheered by the information and for more reasons that he felt like sharing at the moment. At least it was clear that he would definitely _not_ be marrying the Wicked Witch now.

Tracey looked back at Blaise, though her mind was still stuck on Greg's comment about not searching for another Tracey. He'd known she was kidding, but there was something in the way that he'd said it.

"Well, you see, Trace. Those marks of yours. They're kind of... well, they're sort of-"

"Oh just spill it, Blaise. We've no time for this," Pansy harped. She knew what she was hoping it would mean, but she didn't allow any of her thoughts to cross her face. These two belonged together, not that anyone could _tell_ them that. It would take the right words at the right time with just the right nudges. At that thought, Pansy's lips curled into the barest of smirks.

"Well, your bond is most likely one of the unbreakable nature. In fact, from the patterns around the name it's probably more like an ancient contract of betrothal or something," he finished lamely before looking anywhere but Tracey's face.

Her mouth dropped open. _What?_ She looked at Greg who looked like he was trying not to look her in the eye either. Finally, she managed a whisper, "But what about your dad, Greg. What will he do to you?"

_Well, at least she didn't run screaming, that has to be a good thing, right?_ There was nothing his father _could_ do, well other than killing him, which wasn't likely since he was the sole male heir. And besides, it wasn't like he didn't _like_Tracey. He'd just wanted Greg to marry Daphne because he'd always thought they are too close of friends to ever be 'more' than that. But regardless, it really didn't matter to Greg what his father may or may not do to him. It wasn't anywhere near as important as Tracey's reaction to the news. "It doesn't matter what he'll do. What do _you_ think about all this, dear one?"

Not quite knowing that her opinion really mattered on the subject, Tracey shrugged it off as she moved to roll off his lap. "It's not like we actually _have_ to get married. There are loopholes, I'm sure?" She stood and walked toward the books spread out on her boyfriend and _his_ boyfriend's bed. "Surely there are. Something like we don't- well, if it's not-" She was turning pink. She never turned pink when she was talking to Greg but she'd never actually talked about shagging him to his face before either. She'd covered that up well enough over the last two years. Why not today? "Oh, bloody hell! If we don't 'consummate the betrothal' in a timely manner it cancels itself out or something, right? I'm sure I read that those ancient things need confirmation or something. Hand over the book, Blaise."

Greg simply gaped. He _really_ didn't need to hear Tracey discussing them shagging, not when he wasn't in a position to take care of the images he got from it. It was clear that she didn't like the idea of them together. It hurt, but he wouldn't ever show that. He'd have to keep pushing aside his growing feelings for her. _I guess I really was holding out hope that maybe someday she'd look at me like that too. Maybe it is a good thing that I found out now._ "We'll find a way to fix this mess, Trace."

She turned around and saw the momentarily hurt look on his face before he schooled his features and was a blank wall again. The way he assured her, how tight his lips were when he spoke - she knew he'd taken what she'd said all wrong. She didn't know what it was, but she suddenly felt horrible - like she'd lost something she'd never had. "Oh, Greg," she sighed as she snatched the book from Blaise and sat back down on Greg's bed, putting her arm on his leg. "It's not a mess. Not really. It's just your Da. And Daphs - what on earth is she going to say about this, Greg?"

He shrugged. _Doesn't she understand that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks?_ He wasn't going to let her see just how badly her rejection- no matter that she didn't _know_ how he felt- how it had hurt, how deep it cut. He idly rubbed the tattoo and couldn't help but think that soon enough it would be all he had to remind himself of Tracey.

"Am I the only one here that thinks this is a _good_ thing?" Theo finally broke his silence as he spoke softly. He managed to duck behind Pansy as he let the words fall out of his mouth. He was far from stupid and Greg's hexes when it came to Tracey were legendary in their House.

For one time in their lives, Pansy didn't want to smack Theo for saying something brainy. Everyone was thinking the same thing but if _she_ had been the one to say it they all would have assumed she was being sneaky or underhanded - which she most likely would be doing, but that's beside the point. Blaise and Draco looked uncomfortably at one another and Pansy thought it best to just look at the floor.

Tracey's mouth was open, she wanted to say something, but didn't know what it was. Consciously, she knew how she'd felt about her best mate for years, but she didn't think she was _that_ transparent, was she?

Greg's brows rose. Just what the fuck did Nott think he knew? "Explain, Nott, _now_, and use small words."

Draco winced. "Don't go biting Nott's head off, Greg. He's just saying-"

Blaise slapped a hand over Draco's mouth and wrestled him down onto the bed, growling, "You have a death wish, love?"

Pansy practically cackled, but wisely moved from between Greg and Theo, just in case there were any tempers blown.

Theo pushed his glasses up and sighed, "Greg, you can't tell us that you both don't already know." He grabbed the red book that lay on top of his things and flipped to a page before levitating it over to the pair. "You're bonded because you're crazy about each other. It's all there. Chapter Six on _'Soul Mates'_. You told the tattoo artist that you didn't want to marry Daphne. And if you behaved half as much in love as you normally do, he'd draw the obvious conclusion that you two were meant to be together. He likely used a charm that would make it impossible to remove unless there _really was no feeling there_. The moment Trace tried to charm it off her arm it would have worked, but there's something there, obviously, at least on her side. And _we_ know you, Greg. We _know_ why it wouldn't come off your arm with a mere wave of your wand. My question is why in Salazar's name would that be a bad thing?"

"A complete stranger just up and decided to bond us?" He turned to Tracey, the worry evident on his face. He'd only half-listened to Theo and his eyes were wide as he looked at the girl he loved best. "And you're not going to kill me for this?" He shoved a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, trying to explain himself clearly. If he listened to the quiet voice in his heart he knew he was practically overjoyed at the prospect of being bonded permanently to Tracey. His main concern was _her_ reaction. As far as he knew, this was the _last_ thing that she wanted. "I had no idea that he'd do something like this, Poppet. I'd never force you to be stuck with me like that."

"Wait! Just wait," Pansy said fiercely, desperately trying not to smirk or giggle uncontrollably. _This is going to be fun!_ "Greg, stop wallowing! Tracey, answer me this. Do you actually _mind_ bonding with Greg, _if_ that is really what happened?"

Draco and Blaise froze, mid tackle, and watched wide-eyed. Draco leaned in to whisper in Blaise's ear. "Only Pansy."

Blaise snickered, whispering back. "Think she'll get hexed?"

All eyes were on her and Tracey suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She shifted on the bed. If they all thought that she was giving them her real answer they were kidding themselves.

"Well?" Pansy asked her again with her patented smirk on her face.

"Do I mind the possibility that Greg and I could basically be betrothed and there might not be a way to undo it?" Tracey tried to stall. _Are you daft? Of course not. I love- well, he's my best mate. I'm- I'm only worried that he..._

Pansy raised her eyebrow at her expectantly and all Tracey could do was shake her head slowly, her blush rising up her cheeks, and managed to look anywhere but her best mate in the eye. _Great! Just great! What a place to tell him that I love him... that I have for quite a while._ She was mortified. They were supposed to be just friends. He'd think she was delusional, horrible. She just waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh at her, run away from her leaving the tattoo on her arm all that she had left of him.

Blaise sat upright, his eyes darting from Tracey to Greg and back again. There was no way in _hell_ he was going to miss a moment of this. Not only did he consider the two of them amongst his best mates, his true family, but he had a hefty bet riding on the outcome. Tracey had all but said she was in love with Greg since he couldn't _ever_ remember her blushing like that, so...

"Trace?" Greg whispered disbelievingly. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. She was all embarrassed and he wanted the rest out of the room quickly, but didn't want to stop looking at Tracey. _Come on, Trace, just look at me. Please. Help me out here_

Pansy, desperately not trying to giggle uncontrollably, slid off of Theo's bed, dragging him along with her. "Out! Draco, Blaise, out!"

She glared at the amused blond on her way past, Theo sputtering indignantly the whole time, tripping over his own feet in an attempt to keep up with her. "Oh, hush, Theo. You'll be let loose once we're out of here."

"But, Pans-"

"Draco," Blaise whispered threateningly, pulling his lover off the bed, hoping to keep Pansy from putting a Silencing Charm on the door so that he could at least _hear_ what was going on. "If you don't leave now, I'll not shag you for a week." She may be his 'girlfriend' but he wanted her to be happy, and knowing her as well as he did he'd known for years that she'd wanted Greg, even if she had been too blind to admit it to herself or to anyone else.

Pansy opened the door, looking back over her shoulder to glare at Draco, reaching for her wand at the same time. That was all it took to shut him up and get him moving. _Men are_ so _easy_.

Draco locked the door and Pansy swiftly did a silencing spell before leading the other three into the common room. Daphne's gaze darkened when she realized who wasn't with them and even Theo managed a glare in her direction as she looked like she was about to get up and head toward the boy's dorm room. He took one of the seats closest to the corridor and was surrounded by his other friends. They almost appeared as an honour guard, there to protect their friends from those who just didn't want to admit the truth of the matter.

The silence within the dorm was deafening. Tracey was looking down at her hands in her lap, fiddling with the hem of her pajama shirt - his pajama shirt - and hoping that he would say something to fill the silence. Make her laugh; tell her she was an idiot, something -anything- to make it so there wasn't weirdness between them. She caught a glimpse of the moving tattoo on her arm and couldn't help but smile softly at it. She didn't want it taken off, even if he _did_ think she was an idiot.

"Trace, look at me please." He didn't know _what_ to do here. When she smiled, he felt a weight lift. _Maybe I don't have to give up after all?_ His first instinct was to pull her back in his lap and simply hold her- he just didn't know how she would react to that. She didn't answer, so he reached over and carefully tipped her chin up so she had to look at him. "Trace?"

"I'm sorry, Greg." She whispered, turning her gaze upward. The last thing she wanted to do was make things harder for him with Daphne and with his father. She'd lived with being cursed and hexed by a banshee because she hadn't wanted to cause problems between them. Hell, she'd accepted the very real possibility that she was going to end up married to a poofter if only to let him continue the family name while shagging his boyfriend. She'd managed to keep things inside for years, at least she thought she had, and now because she'd encouraged him to get drunk and act stupid he may be stuck with her in a way that he didn't want to be.

Greg cupped her face with his hands, smiling, not wanting to move too fast, but wanting to reassure her in some way that he was totally fine with this new turn of events. "There is nothing to be sorry for. No being sorry, all right."

Tracey's heart began to pound in her chest. His hazel eyes were so soft and when he smiled at her she couldn't help but let her face break out in a shy smile as she nodded. _No sorries._ Normally she was anything but shy, but now he_knew_. Now he knew that she wasn't just a mate, just a friend who would get into all sorts of trouble with him, and who just happened to hate his girlfriend with more loathing than the sun had heat. She'd tried to stop herself, to cover it and remind herself that he didn't belong to her, but apparently there had to be something there on his side too, right? He didn't mind that he may be stuck with her forever.

They had been this close before but it was suddenly different. His thumb brushed softly over her cheek and his face was soft as he moved forward. Leaning up on his knees he breathed in and smelled her familiar scent. She'd always smelled like home to him. She was the one thing he'd had constant in his life. She'd always been there. Pulling her closer, he lowered his lips to hers for the first time outside his deepest thoughts. He'd tried so hard to suppress them, but when she lifted herself up and without breaking their kiss allowed him to pull her up into his lap he knew she was where she belonged; where he'd wanted her to be all along. As soft as their kisses began, the more heated they became as they both allowed the feeling they had kept back from one another seep out of their soul and into one each other.

His tongue swept her lips and she inhaled quickly as she smiled against him. This was how she'd hoped it would be; how she'd imagined it would be for as long as she'd ever had feelings like this about boys. Boy. One boy. This boy. She'd only ever thought about _this boy_ that way. How had she ever doubted this?

Greg leaned back into the pillows, not breaking the kiss even though his mind scrambled a bit with Tracey sprawled out on his chest. His total focus was on her, every sound and tiny move she was making, so the door slamming open took him by complete surprise.

"Mr. Goyle! Miss Davis!"

_Oh fuck!_ Greg winced immediately. He regretfully slid Tracey off of him but he tucked her close to his side as he sat up to face his Head of House. "Sir?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape asked, tossing a book on the bed next to the pair, hiding his amusement rather admirably. When he'd left Albus' office, the man had been laughing delightedly. It wasn't that he hadn't seen this coming, hell he was surprised that there hadn't been a betting pool amongst the staff about this very pair, he was just _concerned_ about the repercussions of their bonding. When they both simply blinked up at him, he sighed. "Well?"

"The meaning of what, Sir?" Greg inquired, hoping that Snape would buy into the clueless facade.

"This," Snape said, glaring at the young man. He didn't have the time nor the inclination to deal with Goyle's 'I'm a clueless moron' act, not today. He tapped the book. "In this book is a record of all the students who have ever been at Hogwarts. Beside each name is a list of dates. Birth dates, dates of other special significance from even after they leave school. Betrothal and marriage dates. Beside two very specific names is a contract date and description of the means of their engagement. Care to explain how two of my seventh years became betrothed via magical tattoo last night?"

"Sir!" Theo exclaimed, rushing into the room with Draco, Blaise, and Pansy close behind. "I can explain."

Snape's brows rose. _So, Nott is finally showing his true mettle is he? Good._ "What is it you _think_ you can explain, Mr. Nott?"

Theo gulped, taking a step back, extremely nervous under the full weight of Snape's attention. "I- they-"

Pansy glared at her Head of House, pushing past Draco and Blaise to stand with Theo. She laid her hand on his arm; displeased by the light shaking she could feel. Giving the poor boy points for hiding it well, she took over. "Don't snarl at Theo, Sir."

Greg opened his mouth to bring the attention back where it should be, on him so that no one else had to deal with a clearly irritated Snape, but Tracey laid her head on his shoulder and entwined their fingers before squeezing his hand lightly and his mind grew momentarily cloudy once again. Their skin began to tingle as the marks they'd engraven on them touched. It felt strange, but he couldn't help but stop himself to look down at her and smile.

Tracey's heart flipped a bit and she knew that whatever the explanation, this wasn't something she wanted undone - even if Daphne did try to kill her in her sleep. Maybe she would just have to permanently move into the boy's dorm. Wondering about the plausibility of that plan, Tracey turned and looked directly at Professor Snape. She wasn't going to let her Head of House take this away.

"Sir, it was my fault," she said calmly, lifting herself up from the bed to face her favourite teacher. "Greg didn't do anything wrong. He told me not to leave the grounds, but when I wouldn't listen he only followed to keep me out of trouble."

"I don't believe that was the question, Miss Davis. I'm well aware that some of my _older_ students have made it out of the castle. Until now I've never felt the need to acknowledge it." He raised his eyebrow at the witch. He would not be dissuaded by her false attempts at being noble. Did she think he had no idea what kind of young people he had in his charge? They weren't Slytherin for nothing. "The bonding?" he pushed her train of thought along.

"Right. The bonding. I- well, we don't- it wasn't like that. We'd been drinking and I didn't want him to marry Daphne. Not when I've lov- He's my best- I don't think we've done anything wrong, sir."

Greg stared at her for a second in near shock at what she'd nearly said before standing up next to her to put his arm on her lower back. As gobsmacked as he was for her little slip of the tongue he still wanted to calm her down and let her know that she wasn't alone, not in this. He could tell she was getting flustered and the very last thing he wanted was her questioning what they'd done. He didn't regret it and he sure as hell didn't want her to. "Sir, is it a problem that we've bonded to one another?"

Snape wanted to smirk -_No doubt your mothers are planning the wedding already_- but he couldn't resist stringing this lot along a bit. Salazar knew they'd given him enough headaches over the years. "Yes and no. Though it is troubling that you two have no _coherent_ excuse for this behaviour. Would one of you explain the _why_ of the tattoos?"

Greg looked up, smiling slightly as he found and squeezed Tracey's hand. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, Sir."_She's as much a part of me than anything else. The tattoo means that I want this forever._

Snape raised an eyebrow at the fleeting thought he managed to filch before pulling himself safely out of the boy's head. Considering the height of young Goyle's emotion, it seemed that he would likely have to find some ghastly kind of wedding gift in the very near future. It was April after all; school was over in a matter of months. "I hope the two of you are prepared for what lay in store for you. This won't exactly be easy. I'm actually surprised I haven't yet received a livid owl from your father, Mr. Goyle, and you, Miss Davis? You had better be prepared for opposition from Miss Greengrass. I know you've dealt with a lot from her over the last several years, but I don't expect she will take kindly to the fact that the dream wedding she has created in her head will never come to pass." _Not that it ever was going to, you don't have to be a Legilimens to know who these two think about nearly all the time._

Greg turned to Tracey; he wasn't pleased, not at all. "What is this about, Trace? What has Daphne been doing? Specifics, if you please."

Tracey's face flushed under his gaze. She hadn't ever wanted to tell him about all the hexing that went on in her dormitory. It was just more things for him to worry about. He was a natural worrier as it was. "I- well, it's nothing, Greg. Really."

A coughing sound from the doorway where Pansy stood caught her attention and Tracey quickly turned her head to motion to her to keep her mouth shut.

"Oh I will not," Pansy said smoothly. She'd been waiting for this moment for _years_. "Tell Greg how many times Daphne hexed you from behind, or how many times she's spelled you to the bed to keep you here instead of wherever it was Greg was."

"Or the essays she set afire," Draco interjected with a scowl.

"I would if I were you," Theo added reasonably. "Otherwise this lot will make it sound a hundred times worse than it really is."

Blaise leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd have added his two Knuts, but his friends were doing a fine job of hitting the high points. All he wanted was for his family to be happy- that meant Greg and Tracey finally together and Daphne- the bint- out of the picture totally.

"Tracey Maeve-" Greg started, only to be cut off.

"It was never as bad as they've made it sound, really it wasn't. And I was horrible to her too." Tracey looked back at Greg before raising her chin defiantly, "But I never hexed her first. I wouldn't do that to you, Greg. Not when you obviously care about her. How else did you think I get such good marks in Defence? Why do you think I named her the 'Wicked Witch'?"

"What the ruddy hell is that all about anyway?" Draco whinged. "You've been going on about the 'Wicked Witch', buckets of water, and falling houses for _years_!"

Snape coughed, hoping to hide his snickers, scowling all the while to keep any questions at bay. _Old Ogden's is the only thing keeping me sane. Though, this lot is the most amusing group I've had in a good ten years. Let's see Goyle and Davis talk their way out of this one._

Greg laughed aloud, he just couldn't help it, even though inside he was seething at all that Daphne was. _Oh the bint will pay and pay dearly for this._ "Because she has a shoe fetish?"

"Greg!" Draco snapped, irritated at being ignored. "Explain."

"Love," Blaise said patiently, "This isn't the time nor is it the place for that."

"Her partiality for shoes is the least of my worries, Greg," Tracey said in all seriousness. She made her voice low so that even he could barely hear. "She has _very rightly_ been trying to keep me from what I've wanted." _You._ Tracey let go of his hand and flipped her hair behind her nervously. "If she's what you wanted then who was I to argue, Greg? You never said... I didn't want to ruin... but I supposed I did anyway, didn't I? I'm sorry, Greg." Tracey looked at the floor; suddenly ashamed of what she was feeling, what she had been feeling for what had to have been years. But he had wanted this too, right? He'd all but said that.

Greg shook his head, turning her to fully face him and tipping up her chin so he could look her in the eyes. They looked so sad and it broke his heart to have her think that. He didn't rightly care about the audience; they could leave if they wanted to. What mattered right here, right now, was making sure that Trace understood who was truly at fault. It definitely wasn't her. "No, Daphne has always known we were close, Poppet. It's my fault for falling in line with what my father wanted regardless of how I felt about you. None of this is your fault. Say it for me, Trace."

Tracey tried to look down but he held her face firmly. "Say it, dear one. There is nothing to feel sorry for."

Tracey's worried frown shifted into a soft smile. She'd always loved when he called her that. Speaking gently, she said, "I'm not sorry. Not really. Though I may be when she figures out you're not going to marry her. You're not going to, right?" At her last question she finally looked up at his soft hazel eyes.

Greg gave her a crooked smile, brushing his thumb softly across her face. "No, I'm not going to marry her, Trace. What would my fiancé' say? She's the one I want to be with forever, or didn't you know that?" One hand moved back into her hair as he pulled her closer to him with the other. They'd been interrupted before, but he was going to kiss the woman that he wanted to be his wife regardless of who was in the bloody room.

He brushed a light kiss across her cheek, before tugging her gently so that her body was flush with his. He could feel her relax, her nervousness melting away and he adored her all the more for it. He glanced over toward Snape and with a wicked grin for his Professor he moved them towards his bed, carefully guiding Tracey backwards, covering her mouth with his. He felt her legs bump the bed and broke the kiss. He leaned her back as if he was going to lay her on the bed, trailing kisses down the side of her neck.

"GREGORY!" Pansy screeched.

Draco and Blaise burst out laughing.

Greg didn't bother with looking anywhere but Tracey, letting her fall gently back on the bed, planting his hands on either side of her head, leaning in for another kiss. He had one goal and if they wanted to watch, that was on them. He wasn't about to stop when he finally got to do what he'd thought about for ages.

Tracey could hardly breathe but she wasn't about to point that out when he was kissing her like that. She sighed into his touch as he lowered his hand to the side of her face, forgetting that they had an audience.

"Um... Sir?" came a voice from the doorway. As pleased as Blaise was that his girlfriend was finally snogging the boy she loved, he just couldn't abide their Potions teacher peeking in on a moment like that. "Sir, I think you're going to be needed in a second. Pansy has taken it upon herself to let Daphne in on the news." _Besides, it's creepier than hell that you're watching this, Sir._

Snape, who was averting his mind, young people were so very free with their thoughts, and contemplating how on earth he would explain what he was about to do to the Headmaster, nodded. "I'm coming, Zabini. There is just the matter of keeping the lovebirds from forcing me to buy gifts for their offspring instead of merely a bloody wedding." With a flourish, Snape drew out a small vial of pale yellow liquid from his cloak and set it next to the bed where the pair was still in an intimate embrace. "Don't forget to use all of this, Miss Davis. The last thing I need is a miniature Goyle running about the dungeons. Wait until you're out of my charge to start with the baby-making if you please."

"Duly Noted, Sir," Greg replied cheekily over his shoulder. "With all due respect, if you could handle Daphne we would greatly appreciate it."

Draco snorted. "You just want us out so you can lock the door and shag each other stupid." He winced when Blaise slapped the back of his head. "Fine, we're going."

Snape all but shoved them out, pulling the door closed with a bang that didn't quite drown out the indignant screeches from the common room. _Salazar help me. I can't hex, Miss Greengrass. I can't. Albus would never let me live it down. I really need that firewhisky._

Uproarious laughter drowned out the screeching and he walked purposefully toward the common room wondering just what the bloody hell had happened now. His jaw dropped when he had to physically step over Malfoy and Zabini, who were quite literally rolling on the floor laughing so hard there were tears running down their faces. The_entire_ house was packed into the common room watching Miss Greengrass running and screeching all the while batting at..._oh fuck all_...blue flying monkeys. It took all he had not to laugh along with his students. Miss Parkinson was standing in the middle of the room looking quite smug.

He coughed, covering his amusement for the second time in under an hour. "Miss Parkinson, how long will the reenactment last? I dare say that Professor McGonagall would give you high marks, if this were an assignment for Transfiguration. Is it?"

Pansy smirked. "Just practice, Sir."

Theo finally stopped laughing long enough to say, "Brilliant practice, Pans! What do you call those things anyway?"

"My Pretties. I call them my pretties, Theo, and yes, they are brilliant, if I say so myself." Pansy grinned triumphantly at the boy who was looking at her strangely. Clearly the explanation that they'd all been hunting for all day needed retelling. Now if only she could manage to get the blasted book out of the dorm without disturbing Tracey and Greg.

_The End_


End file.
